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Full text of "Long Lance"

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ever seen it at all or not—-whether it was just a

One day, when I had grown into boyhood, I
asked my aunt about it. I described the scene to
her and told her the position in which she wras
standing in relation to the pony, where my mother
was standing and how she handed me to her; I
gave her a word-picture of the whole circumstance
as it was so indelibly inscribed on my memory.
As I talked, I could see my aunt's features taking
on a gradual look of wonderment. And when I
was through she looked at me in great surprise
and exclaimed:

'Can you remember that! You were only four-
teen months old then. It was when your uncle.
Iron Blanket, was killed in a fight with the Crows
—and your mother had cut off one of her fingers
in mourning for him; as the women used to do in
those days.5

After this remarkable awakening of early
memory I went back into the mystic sleep of
infancy again; I do not remember anything more
until I was four. And then I came to life again
one day in mid-air. I was in the act of falling off
a horse. I do not remember sitting on the horse's
back, but I remember falling through the air,
hitting the ground and lying there on my back,
looking up in bewilderment at the spotted belly
of the black-and-white pinto as it stood over me.